Drinking whiskey alone.

So when God made the universe, he set aside this day for that very purpose. Getting shitty.

“The week was rough. You did a lot. Its time to relax.” Is what God told himself, as he cracked open a bottle of Jack and watched his creations disobey him and exile themselves out of paradise.

“God damn it.” He said. Understanding the utterance.

He took a shot.

Then, as his creations grew, he watched them worship false gods, and idols, and whatever the hell was around at the time. Trees, rocks, thunderstorms. I’m sure ancient people worshiped thunderstorms. They brought the rain, and brought life. So yeah, thunderstorms were pretty cool. Menacing and terrifying to nubile humans, but still helpful. They were awesome.

Taking note of this, God made a mixed drink. This is where Coca cola was invented. The man took another shot. And surely prepared another mixed drink. The first batch of coke was wonderful.

In his drunken state he let his presence be known. He started sending angels down to manage the humans. To teach them things. To give them a moral compass. He wanted them to pay attention to how they were living, what with his patience wearing thin.

The angels did their part, but eventually one of the angels got sick of the importance God was placing on the humans.

He rebelled, the bastard. He actually contributed to the humans fall.

“Great.” God said. Absolutely wonderful. He figured the angel would tempt his creations, but wanted them to resist. He wanted them to obey out of their own choice.

“They’ll surely chose me over that guy. I mean, i’ve been giving them rules to follow forever (stay away from that tree!) and this guy is telling them to be free and do what they want. I know they’d rather not think for themselves. My fallen angel’s plan is worthless.” God was confident, but…

Satan helped the humans out of paradise, and then continued harassing the beings afterwards. All because God made him have free will but told him never to use it. The Angels didn’t have a choice in following God. They had more rules than humans. Naturally this attitude pissed off Satan, and turned him into God’s foe forever.

God took another shot. Then he invented Seagrams 7 and 7 up.

The combination was beautiful.

So man continued his evolution, and began developing cities, and civilization. The old testament was written. But people kept blowing it. They couldn’t see God’s grand vision. Satan kept pushing them over the egde.

So, god decided he needed to make something new. A new pact with the humans. He essentially wanted them to be nice to each other. However he needed a way to get this idea to them. Burning bushes hadn’t worked before, so he decided to make a man. A son. Jesus would be his herald.

Well, nobody accepted him. They wanted to stick with the old ways, the old ways which they had not wanted to listen to in the first place.

God invented Jim Beam.

So God sacrificed his son to try and prove a message. He brought him back from the dead and threw it in people’s faces. They loved it over time, and Christianity caught on.

Rock on, God said.

He took a drink in victory.

Then over centuries he saw the pain caused in his name. He was angry. He gave mohamad a call, and created Islam. But no. The hate came hard and fast. Christians battled Muslims. It was violent. Painful. Wasteful.

God finished off his bottle of Beam. Invented Red Stag to tide him over, but that didn’t do anything.

All it did was make him care less. He had lost faith in humanity. He tried to wipe them out a few times.

Oh yeah, God invented the do over.

But with no success. He kept drinking and drinking, inventing more and more brands of whiskey. He took a trip down to the buyou and sparked Southern Comfort.He felt hurt because he messed up. His grand vison was ruined. It wasn’t what he wanted it to be.

So he kept drinking. And drinking. SoCo gave him little comfort.

He regressed from the world. He stopped caring. The angels had no direction. The demons, which one of his angels had created began roaming free. Creation was hell.

Now people scream for his help. They scream for his direction! They scream for leadership!

And he is no where to be found.

Angels don’t talk to anyone anymore. Demons pick and choose what kind of misfortune to cause. Satan doesn’t care anymore because all he wanted was to prove a message, and all it did was turn his foe into a drunk.

Satan sits in a corner and cries.

He occasionally drinks vodka.

He occassionally vomits.

Often.

So, what does this all mean?

Alcohol doesn’t solve your problems. You have to take charge and be a fucking man. Own up to your business. Life doesn’t fix itself.

Perhaps I’ve been drinking too much lately and perhaps I’ve been watching too much Supernatural, whatever the reason, i felt like you guys needed something to read here since there’s no cast this week. Check out P.O.R.T.A.L. on Patrol a few slots down. If you’re into demons and life lessons.